


Wake Me Up Inside

by ThislassisHooked



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan AU - Freeform, Eventual Smut, F/M, Scientist Emma, Vampire Captain Hook | Killian Jones, historical fiction - Freeform, non-traditional vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2019-10-16 10:05:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17547620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThislassisHooked/pseuds/ThislassisHooked
Summary: Killian Jones has lived longer than any man has a right to live. Most would argue that what he was doing was not living, but merely existing. The day he lost the love of his life was the day he lost the will to live, but instead of ending his life he inadvertently became the strongest being on earth and unfortunately indestructible. His mortal enemy followed him into immortality and craves the power only Killian possesses. With his brother by his side and the help of a quirky, blonde hematologist, who makes him question whether he is ready for death after all, he will fight against evil, but more importantly, for the cure.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These are not your traditional vampires. Vampirism in this fic is caused by Porphyria, a very real and rare blood disorder. There is, of course, a supernatural element to it and I will be combining historical figures and events with fictional ones. This is the very first fic I ever started writing with Emma and Killian in mind for the lead roles. It has been "collecting dust" for three years, but now I'm ready to share my baby.

He kept his eyes glued to the sliding glass doors, scrutinizing every face that exited the biomedical research facility for the evening. He had a panoramic view of everything that went on around him from the tall oak tree he sat atop, but dusk was approaching and Barnett’s gang of misfit wannabe kidnappers would be appearing shortly and he was in no mood to establish dominance with one of his idiot underlings.

The traffic that had been flowing through the sliding doors had ceased, but two lights in the building were still lit, signaling his target was still in the building. He had been asked to keep watch over her nearly two months ago and she had been making it quite easy for him by keeping herself shut in until the wee hours of the morning. He settled himself in for another calm night, tagging every set of glowing eyes that were fixed on the building. Emma Swan was an enigma. She kept to herself as far as he could gather and staved off any advances from interested men. And there were plenty of interested men. Ms. Swan had grown into a remarkably attractive young woman. The last time he had set eyes on her she had been a gangly spitfire, barely a teenager. The woman she had grown into had glorious emerald eyes that were surrounded by illustrious golden locks, usually pulled back out of necessity. Her thick, too-long bangs always pulled his attention to her dark, long lashes that fluttered every time a colleague approached her. He determined, through his surveillance, that she did not like her research interrupted. She was, however, composed and considerate when forced to interact, and her associates were always met with a genuine smile.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a snap of branches. With his fangs bared, his eyes darted in all directions. His defenses diminished slightly when he heard a familiar, slightly demonic, female giggle.

“Evening Zelena,” he sighed, keeping his eyes locked on the two lit up windows. “Isn’t it a little early for breakfast?”

A pale, frizzy red haired vamp dropped from the branch above him and continued to giggle, as if tickled by an unseen force.

“Silly Killy,” she spoke, inching her mouth closer to his ear. “I’m always hungry.”

He flinched at her revelation, but stayed vigilant, painfully aware that he was not the only vampire keeping a watchful eye on Ms. Swan. Until tonight, the others had been minions, useless in a fight with an older, stronger vampire, such as himself. The appearance of Zelena had him worried. She was half his age, but her psychotic temperament made her a force to be reckoned with. She was a fiercely protective follower of Jonathan Barnett, which put him on high alert.

“Tell me love,” he lamented, with a lulling British accent, “when did you develop a taste for intellectuals?”

She giggled again, and then suddenly graced a mock frown.

“What are you insinuating?”

He studied her for a moment, but let the conversation die. She seemed to notice his hesitation and her mood quickly turned giddy again.

“Poor Killian, you seem so lost.” She locked eyes with his and he could see burning desire pulsing in her black, soulless gaze. “You could accompany me home right now. I’d give you everything and Jonathan would welcome you back to the family.”

“So that his minions can rip that poor girl’s throat out in my absence?” he scoffed. “I’m not going anywhere my dear, especially with a demon such as yourself.”

Her disposition suddenly turned fowl.

“You know that Jonathan can’t be stopped. You’ll fail once again and the family Rogers will finally be wiped out for good.” She giggled sardonically. “Let me guess, mummy and daddy have been keeping secrets from you, haven’t they? Keep a  _ weathered eye  _ on your pretty little bookworm,  _ pirate. _ ”

He stiffened at her insinuation. He had noticed he was no longer alone in his nightly stalking a few weeks ago.  _ They  _ had noticed him too and wisely kept their distance.

“When you decide you’re bored with babysitting,” she paused, lowering her lips just inches from his ear, “you know where to find me.” With that, Zelena jumped from the tree and disappeared into the night.

Killian decided that at dawn he would confront his parents. He needed to know why, after all this time, James Rogers' granddaughter was being hunted again.

**____________________**

The glowing red numbers on her clock kept reminding her that it was time to go. Her eyes were heavy and her brain had turned to mush, but night was when she did her best work and lately walking in the dark alone had become unnerving. She had never been afraid of the dark, always found comfort in its simplicity. In recent weeks, however, she started to feel like she was being watched. The rational part of her brain told her that there was no reason for anyone, or  _ anything _ , to stalk her. Nevertheless, every time she stepped foot out of the lab at night, the hair on the back of her neck stood at attention.

She could see a hint of pink outside her office window, signaling that dawn had arrived. She’d still be able to catch a few hours of sleep and a shower before she had to be back. She had finally refined her drug formula to the point that she was ready to present her findings to her superior today. She took one last look around the room, flicked off the light and locked her office before heading out into the chilly September morning air.

**____________________**

Killian threw open the large double doors to his parent’s quarters, making his presence clear to the shocked, middle-aged couple. He made sure to close the doors behind him to secure their privacy. The couple exchanged knowing expressions and his father sighed in defeat.

Killian recognized the worry on their faces. “I take it you know why I’m here?”  His father simply nodded. “Tell me  _ everything _ **_._ ** ”

His father stood from his place at the large dinner table and made his way to his defiant son. Killian’s piercing stare revealed that he would not be discouraged from his current path of truth seeking. The pair had been throwing excuses at Killian for far longer than either of them thought possible. He had been exceedingly patient with them, but they knew it wouldn’t last and the time for revelation had arrived.

Killian stood his ground, unsure if his demands would be met. His mother and father had never kept secrets from him before. His eyes darted between the pair of vampires that had called him son for over 200 years. He felt a tinge of regret for his abrupt intrusion, but resolved to get some answers.

“Son…” his father began. “You’re right to be angry.”

“I’m not angry,” Killian interrupted, “not yet.” He popped the “t” of both words for extra emphasis.

Something akin to a relieved sigh escaped his mother’s lips. Although vampires do not need to breathe, they are always practicing so as not to arouse suspicions from the living. After so many years, it became a natural habit again.

“Right.” His father hesitated, undoubtedly searching for the right words to begin his confession. “We have been keeping much from you and for that we apologize.”

Killian’s brows furrowed in confusion. His flustered blue eyes softened a bit at his father’s words. He had not expected his stubborn parents to relent so early in what should have been an argument. He ran his hand through his dark, tousled hair in a bid to regain his composure. “Right then, let’s hear it.” He gestured with his hand for his father to continue.

After a couple false starts, the older vampire cleared his throat and handed Killian a file that he had fished out of a locked desk drawer from his office. It contained surveillance photos as well as a short bio on the young woman he had been observing.

“As you know, Emma’s parents died when she was 13 and she was sent to live with her maternal grandparents after the accident.” Killian winced, knowing full well that what had happened was no accident.

“Aye, and Barnett was convinced that she had died as well. James kept her identity a secret long enough to satisfy his assumption and he disappeared from our lives. That was 15 years ago, how did he find her?”

“She’s pursuing a doctorate in hematology and came to Cambridge last year with grant money to complete her research on a new drug she’s developing.”

Killian studied the information he had just been given. “You believe her arrival in Cambridge was enough to garner Barnett’s attention?” he asked, still gazing at the images.

The hesitation in his father’s voice was clear. “No, it’s more than that. The drug, if formulated successfully, would be the first known cure for Porphyria.”

Killian’s eyes shot up at the mention of the devastating disease. His mind was racing. Could his father possibly believe that this woman could cure vampirism? He scrutinized the last photo in his hand, as if looking for some sign of deception. She was smiling in the picture, warmly receiving praise from a colleague. He considered the date the photo was taken. A year ago on September 30 th . Ms. Swan had just begun her research that would consume her every waking moment. In just under a year, she had transformed into a shell of her former bright, confident self. The work had obviously taken a toll on her. The woman in the photo did not have bags under her eyes, and her hair was styled. She was dressed to impress, unlike the baggy scrubs that she sported since he saw her that first night. The most shocking difference was the lack of light in her eyes. In her photo, she was goal-oriented, determined. What he had seen this morning as she hesitantly exited the laboratory at the first signs of daylight was a nearly defeated, exhausted ghost of her former self.

“What does Barnett want with her?”

His father wandered to a large window on the opposite side of the room and slowly drew the curtains, as daylight was creeping in.

“He doesn’t want her to succeed.” he stated flatly.

Killian huffed in frustration.

“He has never hesitated before.” Killian furrowed his prominent brows. “Why is he waiting? If he means to stop her from following through, would it not be advantageous to kill her now?”

“This, we do not know. We have known of her overzealous ambitions since the day she was hired. Our informant at the biomedical labs has kept us updated on her progress, but we never imagined that she would get this far. She has proven herself quite competent, and in doing so, has caught the attention of a very dangerous foe.”

Just then the double doors swung open and another vampire sauntered in with a mock scowl on his face. “Little brother,” he stated with his brows furrowed and arms folded, “it’s been far too long.”

Killian feigned annoyance and turned to his brother. “Always a pleasure to see you as well, Liam. And it’s  _ younger _ brother.” The two men stared stoned faced until Liam finally ended the contest and pulled Killian in for a tight hug.

“Hello Liam,” Killian’s mother said with a smile. “Are Mary and Will with you this morning?”

Liam made his way to the soft-spoken older woman and gave her a much lighter, yet just as sincere hug. “Just me today Judith. I was hoping to catch my  _ younger  _ brother,” he eyed Killian pointedly “before he disappeared to his cave.”

“I don’t live in a cave,” Killian muttered.

Killian was genuinely happy to see his big brother. Unlike Martin and Judith, his adoptive parents, Liam was in fact his blood brother. The two were a strong contrast to one another. Liam was taller with broad shoulders. His hair was a soft yet thick blond mess of curls that sat upon a clean-shaven face. The brothers Jones did share one feature that always gave their kinship away, their brilliant blue eyes. Killian’s eyes were cerulean blue, bright and vibrant with a hint of hazel encircling the iris. They resembled the open ocean that he loved so much. The mess of dark brown hair that always looked slightly windblown as well as the kohl he continued to line his eyes with complemented his intense, glimmering gaze.

Liam seemed to detect that he had interrupted a rather serious discussion. “I’m sorry, should I come back?”

Martin waved away his trepidation. “This concerns you as well Liam. You have a family to protect.” Liam’s features dropped at the insinuation that his wife and child could be in danger. Martin repeated to Liam what he had divulged to Killian only moments ago. He turned to Killian, exhaustion clearly written across the older vampire’s features. “Killian, because of your rather  _ unique _ talent, you are the only one who can get close to Miss Swan.” A flash of sympathy shown in Martin’s eyes and Killian knew exactly what talent his father was referring to. He was, to date, the only vampire to have developed immunity to the sun. Procuring the unexpected ability had been a long and painful process that he preferred to forget.

Nodding, Killian ran his hand through his hair once again, a nervous habit that he had been unable to break for over 300 years. “What would you like me to do?”

“Judith and I will contact our informant at Cambridge, we would like you to get to know the reclusive Miss Swan. Form a friendship with her and earn her trust. We may need it later.”

Killian gaped at his father, but sighed in defeat. Liam was not so silently snickering at the idea of Killian being social.

Martin huffed in annoyance and Liam immediately straightened his face. Killian smiled triumphantly at the admonishment of his brother.

As Killian and Liam were shuffling out of his parent’s chamber, Martin placed a hand on Killian’s shoulder. “Just keep in mind, my boy, that James never revealed any of this to Emma. As far as she in concerned vampires are supernatural beings in movies. Proceed with caution and don’t let her out of your sight.” Killian assured his parents that nothing would happen to the young woman while she was in his charge.

***

Killian smirked as he exited the extravagant home, dressed in a blue plaid button-up flannel shirt and dark jeans that his brother insisted would help him fit in with the modern streets of Cambridge. He shrugged on a leather biker jacket, a much shorter version of the long, heavy duster he was used to and swung his leg over the sleek motorcycle he rarely drove and took off toward town.

Failure was not an option when it came to this particular mission. If any harm came to Emma Swan he would be guilty of breaking an oath that he had made centuries ago.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So I was given permission to enter this fic into the CSSNS so unfortunately this will be the last you hear of this story until my drop date hopefully in the first wave. I promised a chapter two to the very few people who showed this fic some love and I always deliver so here it is. Emma and Killian meet and sparks fly.

Emma was running late as usual. She scrambled to throw on a green fitted cable knit sweater and a pair of skinny jeans, before running her fingers through her hair and dashing out the door of her on-campus apartment.

The aroma as she approached her favorite morning stop-off was too tempting and she climbed the stairs and slipped in hoping the early morning crowd had tapered off. The day that Benet’s Café wasn’t packed full of frazzled students and pretentious professors would surely be the day the world ended. She managed to catch the attention of one of the baristas she knew well enough to call a friend and he nodded after she gave him her best pleading eyes. As she waited she couldn’t resist the urge to catch a glimpse of Kings College Chapel from the balcony of the second story café. The sun was rising from behind the tall steeples and the view was stunning as always.

“Cinnamon hot chocolate!” a voice boomed out from behind the counter and pulled her from her momentary escape from reality. There were two identical to-go cups waiting side by side on the counter and as she approached them, a man in a leather jacket snatched one up and began making his way through the crowd to the exit. Emma examined the cup left behind and called to the stranger.

“Hey wait!” she slipped between several bodies trying to catch up to him. “That’s mine!” she called again. He stopped then and held the cup up to read the name scrawled across it. They had reached a less packed area and she was thankful for it. The hot chocolate thief turned around to face her and she suddenly felt the air leave her lungs. He was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. His nearly black, windswept hair looked messy yet soft. She had the sudden desire to touch the strands that fell artfully over his forehead to find out if her assumption was correct. Her eyes trailed down to his dark scruff that glinted with just a hint of red in the rays of the morning sun. That of course led her to ogle his full lips that were curling into a knowing smile and suddenly she realized that she was staring with her mouth agape. Her cheeks warmed quickly as the embarrassment caused her face to flush. She closed her mouth and dropped her eyes which was a mistake as soon as she caught sight of his obviously toned chest. She snapped her green eyes to his face again and,  _ oh god _ , two deep blue sapphire gems were settled beneath his prominent eyebrows, one of which cocked into a discernible arch.

“Apologies lass,” he looked at the messy writing across the cup and held it out to her “a lovely name for an even lovelier woman.”

She felt the air in her lungs return and smiled ever so slightly at his cheeky sentiment. “Actually, in this case, I think your name is the lovely one.” She exchanged drinks with him and had to hold back laughter when his faced screwed into a bewildered frown. Written clearly across the top read the name LILLIAN.

“Killian” he muttered to no one in particular, placing a clear emphasis on the K. “With a K, is that so bloody difficult to understand?”

Emma let a small giggle escape her lips and his face immediately softened. “Well K-illian,” she imitated, “it was a pleasure, but I’m very late.” They reached the wrought iron stairs and walked down together.

“Where do you need to go?” he asked.

“Oh, only the other side of campus in…” she looked at her watch and panic spread across her features, “five minutes.”

“I can get you there in two.” He motioned to a motorcycle parked just a few feet away.

She bit her lip and looked from him to the bike then back to him.

“Not much of a bike enthusiast, Swan?”

The use of her surname from this handsome stranger caught her off guard. She surmised that he must have read the name on her cup, which only confused her more because Will always called her Emma. “It’s not the bike that I’m weary of Mr…?”

“Jones.” He filled in. “Killian Jones.” He held out his hand to greet her properly.

She locked eyes with him for a moment and forgot that they had only just met. “Emma Swan,” she responded and took his offered hand in hers.

His smile widened at the mention of her full name, putting his perfect, pearly whites on full display. He cocked his head toward his bike, “shall we?” His expression morphed into something hopeful and she could swear she saw a flash of insecurity behind his slightly arrogant façade.

Her resolve to never accept rides from strangers was overruled by her desire to make it to her meeting on time. It had absolutely  _ nothing  _ to do with his attractiveness. A huge toothy grin graced his face as she stepped off the curb toward his bike. He handed her the helmet and swung his leg over the body. Once seated, he motioned for her to do the same. The slightest bit of doubt crossed her mind and she bit her lip once more, but worked to secure the helmet, swinging her leg over to straddle the bike as well. As he started the engine she instinctively wrapped her arms around his waist and she could swear she felt him shudder a bit.

“Hold on darling,” he breathed before kicking the bike into gear.

The other side of campus was just over a mile from the café making it a short ride. She had shouted instructions to him on the way over, but gathered that he was quite familiar with the campus judging by his smooth, calculated moves. She took the opportunity to breath in his scent when her nose was just inches from his neck. He smelled like spice and leather and for a split second she wondered how he tasted. Silently chastising herself, she loosened her grip on him and prepared to jump off as they rolled to a stop in from of the Institute for Medical Research. Still a little unsteady, she planted both feet on the curb and turned to hand him the helmet. She gazed a second too long at his beautiful eyes, uttered a hushed thank you and booked it to her meeting. She didn’t give him a chance to respond.

**____________________**

Killian watched her disappear through the secure steel doors and let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He couldn’t believe the hot chocolate swap worked, smirking when he remembered the way she raked her gorgeous emerald eyes over him. He became lost in her gaze when her traveling eyes locked with his. The smirk morphed into a full, goofy grin as he recalled the blush that crept across her cheeks, spreading to the tips of her ears and down her neck. And  _ gods above _ , the sensation of her arms wrapped around him sent an electric shock through his entire body. He blinked hard and shook his head to break himself out of his trance.  _ Get a grip Jones. _ Having put the bike in gear, he coasted through the winding streets of the campus while he planned their next “Accidental” meeting.

**____________________**

Being on time was a novel experience for Emma and judging by the amount of raised eyebrows in her direction, completely unexpected by her coworkers. The conference room was still empty meaning “on time” actually meant “early” so she had time to gather her wits about her. She was still quite flustered from her rather unusual morning. She was acting like a teenager with a crush. A crush on a man with whom she interacted for a mere five minutes.  _ Get it together, Swan _ .

Her small audience was now trickling in, her nerves calming a bit as Mary Margaret, her best friend and confidant, entered and closed the door behind her. Emma meticulously laid out the results of the research that had consumed an entire year of her life. When she was finished, the head of the department asked her to wait outside the room while they discussed the fate of her tenure.

Twenty minutes later, Mary Margaret poked her head through the door to signal Emma to come in. One look at her tentative smile told Emma all she needed to know.

“I’m sorry Miss Swan, your work is impressive, but there is simply no market for a Porphyria cure.” The rug being pulled out from beneath her hadn’t been completely unexpected. Pharmaceutical companies would never want to invest in a one-time injection that would cure a patient with a chronic disease. The current treatment for Cutaneous Porphyria included a cocktail of drugs as well as a phlebotomy repeated at regular intervals until the disease goes into remission.

“The drug isn’t just meant to cure a patient suffering from symptoms, it can also be preventative. Anyone with the defective gene could get the injection and the disease would remain latent.” Her resolve to keep her emotions in check dissipated as memories came flooding back of the pain in her grandfather’s eyes. She blinked hard and took a calming breath before continuing. “Insurance companies love preventative medicine ergo big pharma will love this drug.” She was staring daggers at the head of the committee, silently goading her to challenge her assertion. The woman was the definition of “frigid bitch”, her dark eyes and dark hair matching her soul, but she knew a good investment when she saw it and she would do anything to keep her department well funded and distinguished. “My research has revealed that altered forms of this drug can also be used to treat several different types of anemia, hemophilia, deep venous thrombosis as well as multiple forms of lymphoma.”

Regina Mills crossed her arms as she considered the determined blonde. “You make a strong case Miss Swan. I’ll pass your research on to the board and they will let you know within the week if your tenure at this institution will be extended.” Her superior stood, signaling the end of the proceedings and everyone except Mary Margaret and Emma shuffled out the door.

“Oh, my god Emma, that was amazing!” Mary Margaret chirped.

Still coming down from an adrenaline high, Emma shook her head before responding to her beaming friend. “I feel sick,” was all she could muster.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off and get some air? You can’t do anything in the lab until you get the go-ahead from Regina, which you will…” Her friend looked pointedly at her, waiting for any sign that Emma believed her. A half smile pulled at the corner of her lips and Mary Margaret was satisfied with that.

After gathering everything into her bag, she breezed out of the conference room with a new air of confidence. Mary Margaret accompanied her outside and gave her a reassuring hug then bounded back in. Emma felt a little tinge of jealousy, but just took a deep breath and accepted that she had a few days of forced vacation and she was going to damn well make the best of it.

**____________________**

She was smiling. It wasn’t the shy grin that she had given him at the café, but a genuine elated smile. The shorter woman with the dark pixie haircut and an equally wide grin had just left her side and Killian found his own proud grin widening. He spied from his place on the bench that she fortunately was headed in his direction. She was practically beaming and it was in sharp contrast to her earlier mood. She pulled some almonds from her messenger bag and started nibbling when Killian was struck with an idea. He desperately wanted to get to know the riddle that was Emma Swan and not just because it was requested of him. As she approached the bench, too lost in thought to notice him, Killian quickly grabbed a discarded copy of the Cambridge Student and unfolded it to the science section. He may have been trying to impress her just a little bit.

“How did it go?” he asked nonchalantly.

She stopped dead in her tracks and glanced in his direction. Her eyes were impossibly more effervescent than they had been just hours ago. Her brows furrowed in confusion and although it was adorable, he felt inclined to clarify.

“Whatever it was that you were late for this morning, how did it go?”

She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, seemingly in an attempt to gain some composure.

“It went… well, really,  _ really  _ well.” She looked to be fighting back a smile, but gave in to the overwhelming glee that was bursting to the surface.

Killian returned her smile, unable to resist the urge.

“Glad to hear it, love.”

She blushed at his use of that particular term of endearment. Deciding he liked the pink hue that he could elicit from her with it, he committed that bit of info to memory.

“What are you reading?” she asked, breaking him out of his musing.

He glanced at the paper he had been pretending to be engrossed in and panicked when he realized he had no idea. A picture of some monkeys and a headline about brain implants combating paralysis graced the front page. Before he could embarrass himself she sat down next to him and read the headline for herself.

“Ooh, isn’t that amazing? I know it’ll be several years before human trials are considered, but it looks promising.”

“Aye…” he stammered. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She was close enough for him to catch the scent of cinnamon and apples that reminded him of warm apple pie.

“And can you believe they used alien technology found on Mars to do it?”

His eyes darted back to the article.

“Wha... yeah.” he stalled. He was speechless. Then he heard her chuckling and he realized his ruse had not fooled her. It was his turn to blush. He set the paper aside and turned to face her, not even trying to hide his wide grin. She was smirking at him, her eyes filled with mirth. He took a moment to study her face a little closer. He took note of the small cluster of light brown freckles that danced across her cheekbones and merged along the bridge of her nose. A few strands of golden tendrils of hair had loosened from her hair-tie and were swaying in the slight breeze. She reached up and tucked the mutinous locks behind her right ear and Killian’s hand itched to do the same to her left side.

“So…” she began, bashfully focusing on her feet. “Are you going to tell me why you’re outside my building pretending to read the school newspaper?”

Her gaze abruptly snapped back to his and he suddenly felt exposed. Her eyes were searching his and for a moment Killian couldn’t speak. He exhaled through his nose and recalled the anecdote that his father had instructed him to use if necessary.

“I’m a guest lecturer, maritime archaeology.” He couldn’t look at her out of, what, shame? He had told many lies in his long life, but for some reason it felt wrong to lead her astray.

Her eyes widened at his revelation. “That sounds fascinating. So you literally hunt for buried treasure?”

“Aye, love. Sunken naval ships, lost cities…”

“Pirates?” she interrupted.

He paused to consider the hopeful expression on her face.

“Aye” he stated simply. “May I inquire as to your rather obvious enthusiasm on the subject?”

She bit her lip and just a hint of blush crept into the apple of her cheek.

“I’ve always just… had… a thing for pirates.”

Killian couldn’t help the salacious grin that overtook his mouth at her words. He made a mental note to thank his father for giving him such an incredible lead-in with this  _ bloody brilliant _ woman. She punched him playfully in the shoulder, clearly blaming him for making her feel embarrassed.

“Okay sir, time to even the playing field.”

“Pardon?”

She huffed and mischievously folded her arms.

“You know one of my dirty, little secrets, so let’s hear one of yours.”

He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over the shell of her ear. He heard her breathing hitch as he huskily whispered, “I am happy to divulge every… last… one… of my dirty little secrets to you anytime, love.” He leaned back and winked. She was now sufficiently covered in a much deeper shade of blush.

**____________________**

He winked, the bastard actually winked. Every time she thought she had the upper hand on him, he found a way to tip the scales and make her blush. She wasn’t very skilled at flirting and his  stupidly handsome face was not helping. The fact that he was knowledgeable in nautical history made him that much more attractive. Hell, he even  _ resembled  _ a pirate.

Just then, when it seemed all sound had ceased and all she could hear was the blood pumping in her ears, her stomach let out a loud growl.  _ Damn traitorous organ. _ His eyes trailed down to her belly, hovered there for a moment then snapped back to hers. His lips curled at the corners of his perfect mouth and Emma impulsively ran her tongue along her bottom lip. She couldn’t help the hunger in her stomach anymore than she could help her hunger for  _ him _ . God, she was like a teenager in heat. After what seemed like hours, he broke the silence.

“Have you had anything to eat today, besides hot chocolate and those almonds?” he asked nodding at her baggie.

All she could do was shake her head. The last thing that had been on her mind that morning was adding “fuel” to her nervous belly. She would have surely vomited all over the committee had she eaten anything.

He stood, holding out his hand.

“Come on then, I know a place that serves a killer grilled cheese.”

She looked at him hesitantly. Her mouth watered at the prospect of her favorite guilty pleasure, but she had no idea who this man really was.

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know about pirates,” he promised after noticing her internal battle.

She took his hand and let him lead the way.

**____________________**

The moans of pleasure escaping from her occupied mouth were making Killian have to shift in his chair. He had barely touched his own food, unwilling to take his eyes off of her as she scarfed down the gourmet grilled cheese.

“Oh, wow,” she breathed as she finished her last bite. She glanced at him and suddenly that lovely rouge returned. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to go ‘full Sally’ on you.”

He furrowed his brow in confusion. “Full Sally, love?”

She chuckled and clarified. “When Harry Met Sally. It’s a great movie with Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal and there’s a scene in which Sally demonstrates how to fake an orgasm while eating her lunch.” The blush got deeper.

“Is that what that was?” he asked, raising one eyebrow in amusement. “Tell me love, was it as good for you as it was for me?” He lasciviously glided his tongue over his bottom lip.

“The  _ sandwich  _ was delicious,” she teased.

He smirked at her boldness. Would this woman ever stop surprising him?  _ God,  _ he hoped not.

The lunch rush was starting to die down in the quaint little bakery. They were nestled in a quiet corner, the smell of Fitzbillies’ famous sticky buns wafting toward them. Killian noticed Emma eyeing the sweet treats as they were being placed on the counter. He signaled to the waiter with two fingers and the waiter nodded his head knowingly. Emma smiled in appreciation.

“I believe I was promised tales of swashbuckling seafarers.”

“That you were, love. What would you like to know? Where Captain Morgan hid his bootlegged rum? How on earth Blackbeard thought he looked dashing with lice infested tentacles hanging from his jaw?”

“Tell me about Calico Jack.”

Her request caught him off-guard. He was momentarily stunned into silence. She must have noticed his hesitance so she cautiously continued.

“I’m sorry, y…you said I could ask anything. If I crossed some sort of line…”

“You did nothing wrong lass,” he interrupted with a weak smile to ease the tension. Relief washed over her face. “I just wasn’t expecting you to ask about old Jack. His is a complicated tale.” He considered her for a moment, noting the glint in her eyes that threw him for a loop. “Before I begin, do you mind if I ask why you’re interested in hearing about him, specifically?”

A trace of sadness befell her delicate features and he wondered if  _ he  _ had crossed some sort of line. It was gone a second later, replaced by something reminiscent of awe.

“My grandfather used to tell me stories about him. I don’t know how many were true, probably none, but his tales of Calico Jack, ‘the only pirate captain with honor,’” she emphasized with air quotes, “are my favorite memories of him.”

Killian’s mouth fell open. Emma’s grandfather was extremely persistent in getting him to reveal his true identity once he had learned of Killian’s vow through his own relentless research. He could tell instantly that Emma shared that same trait with him. The two had formed a secret friendship that had immediately come to a halt after the death of his daughter and her husband. The guilt was overwhelming at times. He nodded his head, urging her to continue as he struggled to gain some composure.

“I guess a lot of his obsession with Jack stems from the fact that my 7 th great-grandfather was the man who sentenced him to death.”

He was, of course, aware of her lineage, but feigned his surprise as best he could

“Making  _ you _ the 10 th direct descendant of Governor Woodes Rogers.”

She nodded, smiling weakly.

Killian ran his fingers through his hair.

“Why don’t we start with what you already know so that I don’t end up rattling off specifics you’ve heard before.”

“Alright, I know that his given name was John Rackham, born December 26, 1682, died November 18, 1720. He was responsible for designing the Jolly Roger flag that eventually became synonymous with all pirates. And of course, he sailed with two female crew members, Anne Bonny and Mary Read.”

Killian struggled to keep his face neutral at the mention of Anne and Mary. If he were going to be convincing as a historian he would have to keep his emotions in check.

“Is that all, love?”

“No, but I’d like to ask some question first. See where your answers take this little inquiry.”

“Fire away.”

Emma paused for a moment, no doubt pondering her first question. After a moment she opened her mouth, about ready to speak when the sticky buns were delivered to their table. He could see the bun was tempting her to hold off on questioning him, but she managed to pry her eyes away from the desert and focus them on his.

“Why did Rackham turn to piracy? There’s no record of his life before 1718. In fact, his birth date is just speculation. Who was he?”

“That is an excellent question Emma, one that no historian could possibly answer.”

Emma’s face fell. She let out a defeated sigh and shrugged.

“It is a question that only a  _ pirate _ can answer, and you happen to be in the presence of the most devilishly handsome one of all.”

He winked again and Emma suddenly started turning her head in all directions, mock confusion written all over her face.

“Where?” she asked teasingly. He snorted at both her playful wit, and the irony of the situation. He gave her a good-humored glower and waited for her snickering to die down.

“I can confirm that birthdays were of no consequence to working men 300 years ago. John was also an orphan so the exact day of his birth remains a mystery. He claimed to be 37 at the time of his death so 1682 is a plausible birth year.”

Emma began picking pieces from her sticky bun while keeping eye contact. Killian took that as an indication to continue.

“As I mentioned, John was an orphan, grew up in the poorest orphanage in London. When he was 13 he met a boy two years his junior who was recently orphaned and the two formed an unbreakable bond.”

“What was the boy’s name?”

“I can’t recall,” Killian lied.

Emma nodded and gestured with her hand for him to go on.

“Once John turned 16 he left the orphanage, taking his best mate with him. They both enlisted in the British Royal Navy, believing that serving King and Country would lead to a better life,” Killian scoffed. “They worked hard, moving up in rank, but life at sea was grueling. Sailors were dying everyday from treatable ailments, but it was easier and cheaper to just throw the poor lads overboard once dead and replace them.”

Emma stopped nibbling. A mix of horror and sympathy washed over her face.

“John and his mate…”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Emma interrupted, holding up her hand. “We have to give his friend a name. It feels wrong to leave him nameless.”

Killian regarded her for a moment, struck by the amount of compassion she held for two sailors from long ago.

“I think that is quite appropriate, love. What name do you propose?”

“How about James, or just Jim? That was my grandfather’s name,” she suggested sheepishly.

Killian couldn’t have smiled any wider.

“I’m sure if John’s friend was alive today, he would feel honored to have such a name bestowed upon him.” Killian noticed a slight glistening in her eyes.

“So, you were saying…” she encouraged with a flick of her wrist.

“John and  _ Jim _ sailed with the Navy for 18 years until an incident that would change the course of both their lives.” He paused to collect his thoughts before resuming. “By the summer of 1716, John had risen to the position of Lieutenant; Jim was one rank below him as Acting lieutenant.”

At that moment a thought occurred to Killian. Emma had only agreed to lunch  _ after  _ he had promised to regale her with stories of pirates. He wasn’t willing to risk losing the carrot that he was currently dangling in front of her face. After a few more seconds of silent contemplation, Emma interjected.

“Killian?”

“Apologies, lass, I was just thinking that perhaps I would save the rest of the story for next time.”

Her eyes dropped from his and for a moment he was worried that she had taken offense. When her lovely green orbs met his again they were unreadable.

“Next time?” she challenged. “I don’t remember adding you to my list of things to do.” Emma immediately flushed bright red at the accidental innuendo and Killian arched his eyebrow salaciously. “That came out wrong, can we just hit the rewind button?”

“As you wish,” he promised with a genuine smile. He decided to risk everything on the slim chance that she enjoyed spending time with him as much as he did with her.

“Well I insist that you check your list again. I believe that you’ll find ‘go sailing with Killian’ scheduled for September 21 st .”

He held his breath while he waited for her inevitable refusal. She continued to stare at him, searching his eyes. Killian started to regret having been so forward with this woman he just met hours ago. He just prayed he hadn’t mucked it all up.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“Okay.”

Killian immediately lost his train of thought. He wasn’t sure if he heard her correctly.

“Okay?” he asked still completely flabbergasted.

“On one condition,” she said holding up her index finger.

“Anything.”

She took a deep breath, trying to look very serious, but failing adorably.

“You have to promise you wont murder me and throw my body overboard. Things are finally starting to look up for me and I don’t need you to fuck it all up by going full psycho-killer on me and chopping me into little bits.”

Killian couldn’t help the full belly laugh that erupted from him.

“Don’t worry, love, I would never chop you into little bits on my ship. It would be far too messy.”

She let out a breathy chuckle. They spent a few more minutes working out the details for the next day before parting ways.

“Until  _ next time _ , Swan.” Killian took her hand in his and lowered his lips to her knuckles, brushing a light kiss upon them. He could hear her breath hitch at the contact.

“Until tomorrow,” she said with a shy smile.

____________________

Balancing her leftovers in one hand, keys in the other and a couple of bags of groceries hanging off of her arms, Emma managed to unlock her apartment door and practically fell in. She kicked the door shut and then threw everything onto her kitchen table before letting out an exaggerated sigh.

What had she just gotten herself into? She just agreed to go sailing with a man she just met this morning. An extremely sexy, roguish,  _ hey I just met you, but I want to jump your bones, _ man. She shook her head from the insanity of it all, but she couldn’t seem to shake the ridiculous grin off of her face.

She began to put her groceries away when she suddenly realized she had forgotten to ask Killian what to wear. She had never been sailing before, but what she did know is that it could get pretty windy. They had exchanged contact information and Emma’s eyes drifted to her phone. If she was going to talk to him again she was going to need a little bit of liquid courage first. She pulled the bottle of Captain Morgan spiced rum out of one of her grocery bags and smiled at the fact that it reminded her of him. Pouring herself a generous amount she reached for her phone. He answered on the second ring.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your angelic voice this evening, love?”

Really? The man could effectively put the word “charisma” to shame. She struggled for a moment to find her own words.

“I’m calling because I have no idea what I should wear tomorrow.”

She could practically hear him smirking, undoubtedly tempted to suggest no clothes at all.

“A light sweater and jeans should suffice.”

“Where exactly are we going? The nearest port is an hour East.”

“Aye, my ship is docked in Maldon.”

Emma audibly gasped. She had always wanted to visit the historic town.

“That sounds amazing,” she squeaked out.

“I don’t mean to pry, love, but is there something else on your mind?”

He was very perceptive. There was a lot on her mind actually.

“It’s just that… this is all new to me. The Emma from yesterday would have shut you down without thinking twice about it. She would have gone hungry rather than have lunch with an attractive stranger. She would sabotage any opportunity for adventure, missing out on so much because of her incessant tunnel vision. Her life was centered around one thing and now…”

“And now…?” he encouraged.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m glad I took a chance on you.”

“So am I, love. To be honest, I was convinced you would find me just a tad bit…”

“Arrogant?” she sniggered.

“Ah, I was going to say overconfident, but that works too. I was very pleasantly surprised you did give me that chance, Swan.”

She wasn’t sure if the warmth radiating through her body was from the liquor or the lulling lilt of his accented voice.

“Just don’t make me regret that decision sailor.”

He chuckled softly. “I promise you lass, tomorrow will, without a doubt, be a day you will not soon forget. Sailing is bliss, to put it simply. And I happen to know that the Captain is a dashing rapscallion with an avid sense of adventure.”

“More like a scoundrel,” she laughed. “Goodnight, Killian”

“Sweet Dreams, Emma.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look for me when CSSNS kicks off and please leave kudos or comments or both


	3. Chapter 3

Emma checked her reflection for the tenth time, taking deep breaths to calm her nerves. Killian was going to be there at any moment and she was slowly coming down from a panic attack. She had already tried several different sweaters on, each one being too frumpy or too light or too heavy, finally settling on a comfy oversized plum colored one paired with skinny blue jeans. She had to keep reminding herself that this wasn’t a date so she shouldn’t worry about making an impression, right? Did he know that this wasn’t a date? Now she was starting to panic again over the fact that she would have to make that clear to him at some point. A couple of loud knocks on her front door drew her out of her irrational thoughts and she set her worries aside for the time being. Running her fingers through her slightly styled tresses, she took one last look at herself and headed out of her bedroom toward the source of the knocking. She took one last breath before unlocking the deadbolt and opening the door. She was glad she had taken that deep breath because the air quickly left her lungs the moment she laid eyes on him. He was wearing a dark blue Henley that made the blue in his eyes pop and deliciously form fitting black jeans.  
He raked his eyes over her form and she suddenly felt very self-conscious.  
“You look stunning, Swan,” he uttered, sounding adorably awestricken.  
She smiled at him, biting her lip in the process. The action elicited a return smile and a raise of his eyebrow.  
“Shall we?” he asked tilting his head toward a dark blue pick-up parked out front.  
“Yeah, I just need to grab my bag and I packed a few snacks.”  
He spotted the large basket sitting on her kitchen counter. “A few snacks?” he laughed.  
She elbowed him lightly in the gut and he let out an overly dramatic “oomph”  
“I didn’t know what you liked, so I got a variety to cover all the bases.”  
He reached for her hand and drew it to his lips to brush a very sweet, light kiss just above her knuckles. “That was very thoughtful of you, love,” he said, releasing her hand. “Thank you.”  
She smiled sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He offered to carry the basket as she locked up and followed him to the truck.  
“Nice truck, didn’t think the motorcycle could handle the drive, huh?” she asked cheekily.  
“Oh, I know the bike could, but I assure you, your thighs could most certainly not handle it,” he jested, popping the “t” and making her lower abdomen flutter at the obvious innuendo. He opened the door for her and offered his hand to help her into the truck, a smirk firmly in place.

____________________

 

The first half of the drive was spent playfully arguing over what music to listen to and silly banter. He wanted to listen to 80’s rock music, which she had no problem with of course, but found that it was just too much fun to rile him up. She suggested a country western station simply to see his reaction and when he was just about ready to relent, she couldn’t hold in the laughter anymore. They settled on Green Day, but didn’t end up paying much attention to the music anyway. They fell into easy conversation, mostly over favorite books and movies, but nothing too personal. She didn’t feel quite ready to open up completely to Killian yet and she got the feeling that he felt the same.  
As they approached Maldon, Emma fell silent, taking in the scenery. Her eyes darted in all directions. The small Tudor style homes were beautiful, becoming denser as they drew closer to the water. She saw a tall steeple in the distance and realized they were headed right toward it.  
“Is that…?” she inquired, pointing in the direction of the steeple.  
“All Saints Parish, aye. St. Mary’s is just a few miles down the road as well.” As if sensing her next question he continued. “We’ll drop by both of them before leaving, lass.”  
She smiled widely as they navigated the small roads leading to the marina. Emma marveled at the amount of vessels berthed at the Blackwater estuary. Killian pulled up to a booth that was sitting at the entrance to a large parking lot. The heavier set man flashed him a large smile as Killian rolled down the window.  
“Good mornin’ to ya, Cap’n Jones. Taking the old girl out to stretch her legs?”  
“Aye, it’s been too long, William.”  
The man looked past Killian and nodded his greeting to her. She lifted her hand and gave a small wave and a smile.  
“And I see ya have a lovely companion this time. The water is calm today, no reports of any storms rollin’ in, have a splendid sail Cap’n.” He handed Killian a tag to hang from his rearview mirror and raised the bar, allowing access.  
“Do I have to call you Captain too?” Emma inquired with a chuckle.  
Killian turned to face her, a devilish smirk slowly creeping across his face. “Aye, unless you’d prefer the view from the brig of course.”  
Emma snorted at that. She knew he wasn’t serious, but wondered if he really had a brig on his boat.  
He pulled into a spot and promptly hopped out of the truck to get her door.  
“Just like a true gentleman,” she quipped, handing him the basket.  
“It’s common courtesy and,” he leaned in close to speak softly into her ear, “I’m always a gentleman,” he retorted with a smirk and a wink. “Unless, of course, the lady would prefer a scoundrel,” he murmured, the smirk still firmly in place. She could feel her face heating slightly and knew she was blushing. She was relieved when he cocked his head in the direction of the marina, motioning her to follow him.  
They passed several boats, most with sails that looked like they were used for racing. There were a few motorboats as well as luxury yachts, but Emma was astonished to see that there were a few older, large barges tied to the docks.  
“Those are Thames Barges,” he said pointing. “They’re still used today to transport goods back and forth from London.”  
They continued walking further down the dock when Emma’s eyes widened in shock. At the end of the dock was a large, renovated pirate ship. They seemed to be walking right toward it and her stomach flipped when he stopped in front of the gangplank leading to the ship.  
“Killian,” she gasped, “This is your ship?”  
“Aye, this is her.” He tilted his head, apparently trying to read her expression. “Is this not what you were expecting?” he asked deliberately.  
Of course she wasn’t expecting a pirate ship and he knew it. She narrowed her eyes at him and pursed her lips. The smug bastard knows exactly what he’s doing to her. “When you said ‘ship’, I figured you were simply trying to make your boat or yacht sound more impressive,” she admitted. “Is she modeled after a specific pirate ship?”

“Actually, she isn’t a model at all. I restored her to her former beauty and before you ask, she did not come with a name.” He hated lying to her, but at least it was true that he had been continually renovating his ship, he just left out the part about how many years he’d been at it. The awestruck expression that overtook her face at his revelation took his breath away.

“This is a real pirate ship.” It wasn’t a question, but she just couldn’t find the words to describe what she was feeling. Killian took her hand in his and lead her up the gangplank. Her breath caught in her throat as she stepped on deck. She counted two masts with three heavy white sails billowing in the wind on each. A bowsprit held two headsails attached to jibs at the bow of the ship, ready to lead them in any direction Killian turned the wheel. Killian had obviously called ahead to have his ship prepared and ready to set sail. “Is this a sloop-of-war?” she asked, remembering her grandfather’s descriptions of some famous pirate ships.  
He gazed up at her while pulling up the anchor. He looked amazed at her nautical knowledge and she mentally thanked her grandfather.  
“Aye, lass,” he said while climbing a small staircase that led to the helm. “Technically, if we’re not a war, you can call her a brigantine. Have I mentioned what a bloody marvel you are yet today?”  
She smiled bashfully at that and slowly followed him, taking her time to thoroughly inspect the vessel. The deck was a dark walnut, about 70 feet long. The outer edges of the ship had been painted a rich navy blue with yellow trim. She leaned over just enough to see that there was a gun deck. “How many gun ports does she have?”  
Killian had just begun guiding the ship out of the harbor, his hands firmly grasping the wheel. She froze in place, admiring his form as he effortlessly maneuvered his ship, turning the bow into the wind. The reflection of the sparkling ocean’s surface in the morning sun had made his eyes shine impossibly bluer. Emma was surprised by the speed of the large ship, the marina getting smaller as they headed out into the Blackwater River. She joined him by his side, sharing in the elation that was radiating from his body. She could tell he hadn’t been sailing in a long time based on the wide smile that reached his eyes. His teeth even seemed to glitter in the sun. She jumped as his arm snaked around her waist to position her in front of him. He guided her hands with his to the same two handles his previously held. She could feel the warmth of his body and the ghost of his breath on her neck. She took a stuttering breath and concentrated on pushing ahead.  
“Twenty four,” he said huskily.  
“What?” she asked genuinely confused.  
“You asked me how many gun ports on board, there are twenty four and fourteen cannon holds,” he clarified. “All disabled, I assure you.” She couldn’t see it, but she knew he was smirking behind her.  
“Isn’t it bad luck to captain a ship with no name?”  
“Aye,” he said coming around from behind to face her. He crossed his arms and lazily leaned against the helm’s railing. “But you see, naming a ship is never to be taken lightly. She had a name once, long ago, and none of the names I’ve considered seemed appropriate.”

Killian decided immediately that he very much liked the sight of her navigating his ship. Her golden hair was gleaming brightly in the late morning sun as the wind blew the heavy locks fluently from her face. Her lively eyes were focused straight ahead, with the occasional glance in his direction. He continued to admire her beauty as well as her natural ability to handle the old girl.  
“So,” she suddenly spoke, breaking his trance. “you just happened to come across a functioning 300 year old pirate ship on one of your expeditions? How do you even know it belonged to pirates? And for that matter, how did you keep it out of a museum?”   
She was speaking so fast, Killian wasn’t sure where to start. How was he going to explain how he knew that the William was a pirate ship without revealing that it belonged to Jack? He did have Jack’s journal stowed safely away in the captain’s quarters and wondered if he could convince her that it belonged to a lesser known pirate captain.   
That could easily backfire if she begged him to let her read it, knowing full well that he would not be able to say no. Killian’s name was mentioned in several passages, seeing as he was Jack’s first mate and best friend. Thankfully, Jack was wise enough not to ever mention Killian’s condition, taking that secret to his grave. Killian’s own captain’s log was stored with Jack’s as well with 300 year old handwritten script.  
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that. You are the expert and if you say this is a pirate ship, I believe you.” She leaned in close to his ear, nearly brushing her nose along the shell, causing his breath to stutter. “And don’t worry,” she leaned in impossibly closer and whispered, “I won’t tell anyone you’re hoarding a priceless, centuries old brigantine.”  
Killian let his eyes fall shut, imagining how her lips would feel pressed against the sensitive skin behind his ear. He hadn’t felt such attraction to a woman since Anne.  
Killian took over navigating the ship once they reached the mouth of the river. Emma prepared bite sized pieces of baguette with creamy gouda with sweet red grapes and fed him as well as herself while asking multiple pirate related questions. Every time he would tell her something she didn’t already know she would adorably squeal with delight, then promptly cover her mouth in embarrassment.

“So you’re telling me that Calico Jack didn’t have a relationship with either women aboard his ship?” Killian nodded his head in the affirmative. “That’s not what I read and my grandpa told me that Anne Bonny was the love of Jack’s life,” she argued.  
“Well you see, Swan, as Jack was approaching his 38th year, he was ready to retire and his first mate was willing to take on the title of captain as well as his namesake.”  
“Just like Wesley and the Dread Pirate Roberts,” she said under her breath.  
“Dread Pirate who?” Killian asked, baffled  
“What, have you been living in a cave for the last 30 years?” she ask jokingly. He scratched behind his right ear just then, a gesture that Emma immediately recognized as a nervous tell. The look on his face told her that she may be closer to the truth about his living arrangements than he was comfortable with. She decided to drop the subject for the time being, remembering that they both still had a lot to learn about each other if they were going to be friends.   
“I think we need to have a movie night,” she announced as she placed the leftover food in the basket. Killian was turning them around to head back to the marina.  
“So if what you’re saying is correct, Jack’s first mate was Anne’s lover.”  
“Aye.” Emma noticed a shadow had passed over Killian’s features. She took the hint and gave him a reassuring smile before heading below deck to place the picnic basket in the gally and also take a moment to admire the craftsmanship put into the intricate interior. She ran her finger along the large oak desk that sat perpendicular to a four poster bed adorned with a soft, woven, deep purple comforter.  
“Emma.” His sudden appearance below deck had her nearly jumping out of her skin. The last thing she needed was for him to believe she was snooping. “I’m sorry for my poor manners earlier.” He looked so conflicted and troubled that all Emma could do was place her hand upon his scruffy cheek and encourage him to look her in the eyes  
“You don’t owe me an apology or an explanation,” she assured him. “We’ve only just met and you are entitled to your secrets.” He gave her an appreciative yet sheepish smile. “God knows I have my fair share,” she said with a sigh. “This is beautiful, by the way,” she complimented, sweeping her hand to indicate she meant the entire room.  
“Aye, I refurbished it to be as accurate as possible, but the quarters took a great deal of damage in what I assume was the old girl’s last battle.”  
“What kind of damage?”  
“Cannon fire, mostly. I had to replace the entire outer wall and my brother helped me craft the bed and desk to look as authentic as possible.”  
“Wow,” Emma said, raising her eyebrows high up her forehead. She studied the fine details of the bedposts, unable to keep her hands from stroking the smooth, lacquered wood. “Will I ever have the pleasure of making your talented brother’s acquaintance?” she asked, still admiring the skill that went into creating such beautiful woodwork.  
“Perhaps, although he and his family tend to lead a bit of a reclusive life,” Killian explained, hoping she wouldn’t pry. She seemed to accept his answer with a resigned smile.  
“Well, please pass on my compliments the next time you see him.”  
Killian nodded and noticed a few yachts passing the ship through the cabin’s porthole. “I’m going to weigh anchor, love and we’ll be back to shore shortly. How do you feel about visiting my old watering hole? It’s just a short stroll from the marina.”  
Emma gave him a wide smile. “I would love that.” He grinned back and jogged up the narrow stairs, or as he had corrected her earlier, ‘anything resembling stairs on a ship is called a ladder, love’. 

Killian held the door to The Jolly Sailor open for Emma. She flashed him a grateful smile and stepped inside the cheesy yet cheerful pub. Of the few patrons enjoying their afternoon libations, there were two types of men. One very boisterous group, that sat at the bar with huge mugs of beer, wore slicker pants and smelled of salt and fresh fish. The other group that occupied a larger table in the back of the bar, as far from the working class men as possible, were dressed in preppy white sweaters and pleated pants. Stereotypical, privileged snobs from West Essex county, no doubt. She had come in contact with enough of them on campus to be able to single them out instantly. Killian led her to the far end of the bar and offered his hand to assist her as she hopped onto the tall barstool. He removed his jacket, placing it on the back of the stool, and sat beside her, eyeing the drink menu.  
“As I live and breath,” a male voice boomed from behind the bar. “Killian Jones,” the sandy haired bartender started, “I thought you’d gone and died and forgot to invite me to your funeral.” The friendly man approached them after refilling a pint for one of the fishermen. His smile grew wider as his eyes fell on Emma.  
“Always a pleasure, Rob,” Killian replied, returning his greeting with his own warm smile. “Robin, this is Emma Swan,” he gestured towards her with his hand. “Emma, this is Robin Locksley, owner of this fine establishment.” Robin held out his hand in greeting and as she placed her hand in his, he raised her knuckles to his lips to place a feather light kiss upon them.  
“It is very nice to meet you, Emma.”  
“Likewise,” she replied with a blush. Killian cleared his throat and Robin let go of her hand.  
“Emma is a research fellow at Cambridge,” Killian explained.  
“Color me impressed. What is it that you research, Miss Swan?”  
“I’m a hematologist,” she began, but paused when she noticed the quick dart of his eyes from hers to Killian’s then back to hers.  
“A hematologist studies… blood, if I’m not mistaken?” Robin recovered quickly.  
“That’s correct. I specialize in blood disorders. At the moment I am awaiting approval from the board of directors to continue my research on a drug formula that could eradicate porphyria as well many other forms of blood disorders.” Robin’s mouth dropped open at the mention of the rare disease and Emma was about to ask him about his odd behavior when Killian cleared his throat once again, grabbing her attention.  
“What would you like to drink, love?” She didn’t quite know what to think about their odd behavior so she decided to just let her suspicion die for the moment.  
“I’ll have whatever you’re having.” Killian scratched behind his ear again, clearly nervous about disappointing her with his selection. “Hey,” she said, placing her hand on his scruffy cheek, “I trust your judgment.” He let out a small sigh of relief. “I’m going to run to the ladies room.”

Killian watched her disappear as she followed the signs directing her to the hallway at the back of the bar to find the restrooms. He was startled back to reality by his friend’s sudden and loud, fake cough.  
“Killian, what the hell is going on? I haven’t seen or heard from you in a couple months and now you show up unannounced, with a woman no less. Who is she to you?” Robin crossed his arms and waited, his eyes warning Killian that he would know if he tried to lie to him.  
Robin was Killian’s best and, until Emma, only friend and the only mortal who knew of his condition. 

***  
It was a stormy afternoon when Killian had been passing by the pub after docking his ship and preparing her for the impending nasty weather that was sure to hit the seaside town when he heard a scuffle and a cry for help. With superhuman speed, he followed the noise around to the back alley of the Jolly Sailor, a pub and boarding house that had been in operation for as long as he has been “alive”. He spotted the pub’s newest owner with a bloodied face, crumpled on the ground in the fetal position, trying to stave off his attackers. Killian’s blood boiled when he saw that it was three thugs against one helpless bartender. He charged at the human scum with great force, knocking two of them ten feet back against a chain link fence while the third turned on him. Killian easily dodged each attempted blow from the drunkard, kicking him in the arse and sending him head first into the side of the building, knocking him out cold. The beaten man yelled out a warning just as Killian felt a knife being jabbed into his lower back, no doubt piercing his kidney. Big mistake, Killian mused. He turned to face the startled mugger and pulled the knife from his back, turning it on the frightened man.  
“Please, we was only lookin’ to rob ‘im. Me and Gerald,” he gestured to his scared companion behind him, “we haven’t been able to find work in months and we was desperate. We have families to feed.” The man was visibly shaking with fear as the owner of the business stood and cautiously approached Killian and the would be thieves. He would have a black eye and a split lip and possibly some bruised ribs, but he would live. Killian was astonished to see a flash of sympathy in the man’s eyes. East Essex was a notoriously poor neighborhood with an astoundingly high unemployment rate.  
“So you believe that gives you the right to steal from others who are trying to make a living as well?” Killian asked with a little less venom this time.  
“No sir. We was desperate, haven’t eaten in days, weren’t thinkin’ straight, we wasn’t.” By now, the man Killian had knocked out was starting to come to with a groan. “I… I didn’t mean to stab you,” he stuttered out, obviously afraid for his life.  
Killian turned his head toward the pub owner and the two shared an unspoken understanding.  
“Why don’t you come inside, get warm and dry and I’ll make some soup and bread for you to take home to your families,” the bloodied owner offered. The three men stared dumbly at him, as if they couldn’t believe what they had just heard. Nevertheless, they followed the man, Killian bringing up the rear to keep a watchful eye on them and the man, Robin, as Killian would later learn was his name, was true to his word. The five of them sat at the table nearest to the fireplace, occasionally laughing uproariously at a shared anecdote while Robin periodically checked on the soup and freshly made bread. The man who had thrust his knife into Killian’s back was Lawrence, and his two friends were Gerald and Harry. Killian did his best to explain that Lawrence was so inexperienced with a knife that he had only cut his favorite leather jacket, showing him the lack of blood to set his mind at ease.  
“I’m real sorry about ruinin’ your leather trench coat, Mr. Jones,” Lawrence apologized again.  
“Don’t you worry about my coat, Lawrence. All you need to worry about is getting that food back to your family while it’s still warm and finding a job. I have a few contacts at a factory in Essex. I’ll give them a call, see what I can do for you. All of you.”  
“To Mr. Jones and Mr. Locksley,” Gerald began, raising his mug, “may you both live long and prosperous lives!” Killian flinched at the toast, but quickly schooled his features to show appreciation for the kind words.  
Robin sent the men off, each with a basket full of warm bread and pots full of hot, hearty soup. He had since cleaned his face of any blood and approached Killian with another two mugs of frothy, amber liquid. He sat across from Killian, taking a moment to study him and making Killian feel on edge.  
“Thank you for your assistance today, mate.” Killian nodded before taking a swig of the much needed alcohol. He knew that Robin was not so easily convinced by his explanation he had given to Lawrence. “Does your injury need attending to?”  
“No,” Killian relented. He ran his hand threw his hair, preparing himself for the inevitable twenty questions that were sure to come.  
“Robin Locksley,” he offered his hand in formal greeting.  
“Killian Jones.” The men shook hands.  
“Well, Killian Jones, you have just earned yourself free beer for life at the Jolly Sailor,” Robin declared. Killian could do nothing, but gape at the man he dared call a friend.  
“Mate…” Killian started, but was swiftly interrupted.  
“You don’t owe me an explanation.” Killian sighed in relief. “However, one day in the future, perhaps after I have earned your trust, you may find that I make a rather excellent confidant.” Robin gave him a genuine smile and Killian knew it was only a matter of time before he shared his darkest of secrets. 

That day came sooner than he had expected.

“So, if I’m understanding you correctly, you were cursed with vampirism by a voodoo priestess,”  
“Obeah,” Killian corrected.  
“Apologies, you were cursed with vampirism by an obeah priestess because you were dying from an incurable infection and your friend, Jack, took you to her to save your life after you deserted Her Majesty's Royal Navy in 1716.”  
Killian nodded his head. “Aye.”  
Robin starred just a second longer and Killian opened his mouth to explain further when the man refilled his mug and slid it over to him. “Sounds feasible to me,” Robin grinned. Killian expelled a relieved chuckle and from that day forward, the two men formed a tight bond which led to Killian eventually sharing the whole sad tale to his friend.  
***

The clearing of Robin’s throat tore Killian out of his reverie. He knew he couldn’t avoid his friend’s inquiry so he blurted out the truth.  
“Emma is the last remaining descendant of Woodes Rogers,” he confessed solemnly. Robin’s mouth fell open and his arms loosened from their locked position across his chest.  
“What the devil is she doing with you then, out in the open like this?” Robin asked with a hushed yell. Killian ran his hand through his already disheveled hair.  
“Barnett knows she’s alive. I’ve been charged with ensuring her safety as well as befriending her until we can figure out what he wants with her. As far as we can tell, he doesn’t want her killed. At least not immediately.”  
“Fuck,” Robin breathed out.  
“Aye,” Killian agreed.  
“Well, if friendship is all you’re after, you had better tone down the charm, my friend.” Killian arched his eyebrow in confusion, waiting for his friend to elaborate. Robin shook his head while chuckling, much to Killian’s bemusement. “Sometimes I forget how long you’ve been out of the game, old man.”  
“Might I remind you, old man, I’m technically only 32; However, I do remember celebrating your 42nd birthday a few months ago,” Killian countered with a shit-eating grin.  
“Be that as it may,” Robin leaned in, “you haven’t had much experience with the fairer sex in nearly 300 years, my friend.” Killian lowered his eyes to study the etchings in the counter top at the thought of his long lost love. “Just be careful,” Robin cautioned. “You have a fragile heart and that lovely young woman just may be the one to fix it or shatter it.”   
Killian gaped at his friend, a retort on the tip of his tongue when he caught a glimpse of her returning from the restroom and it hit him that Robin was right. Emma had awakened something inside of him that he hadn’t felt in a very long time; want. She made him smile, laugh and he even found himself looking forward to today. Even now he was smiling, thinking of all the feelings she brought out of him in such a short time that he thought were long dead and buried. For the first time in centuries, Killian Jones wanted to live.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos or a review or both!


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